‘Children who commit crimes have the capacity to become decent, contributing adults.’
Photograph: Eric Risberg/AP

The United States has the dubious distinction of being the only country in the world that sentences children to life without the possibility of parole. As someone who spent over a decade in prison for my involvement in a gang-related murder when I was 13 but now carries deep remorse, works as a youth sentencing reform advocate, and lives a productive life as a free adult, this issue is something I think about and work on every day.

Lately, and in light of US supreme court rulings earlier last year, I’ve been thinking about what second chances should look like for people who were – as children – told they would someday die in prison.

In recent years, the supreme court has dramatically limited the practice of sentencing children to life without parole, declared it unconstitutional in almost all cases, and mandated “meaningful opportunity” for review for those already serving such sentences.

Unfortunately, coming out of prison in their older age – with a criminal record, limited support, scarce resources and no understanding of today’s technology – has posed a great challenge for these men and women and those who seek to assist their re-entry.

For some of them, it would be too physically and emotionally challenging to return to school, pursue a career, start a family, and give back to their communities, which many formerly incarcerated individuals often do. Sadly, after 40 or 50 years, many of their friends and family had have died or moved on. Because they were children when they entered prison, many of them never driven a car, voted, or had an adult relationship.

Instead of returning juvenile lifers to society at an age that is ripe for a meaningful reintegration, our justice system incarcerates some of them for so long that it saps their greatest potential and necessitates a comprehensive support system upon release that is not always available to them.

I was given my second chance at the age of 26, after spending 13 years in prison, and even then, my first weeks out of prison were incredibly difficult. I carried all my belongings in a duffle bag and slept at a homeless shelter for the first few days.

But before I got out, and before the effects of the 1994 bill known as the Violent Crime Control Act (which ended Pell Grants for inmates) were felt at our institution, I was able to attain two associate degrees, a bachelor’s degree, and several vocational certificates – including one in computer technology. Once out, I was still young enough to carry that duffle bag, walk from business to business, search for employment, and not face the added barrier of looking for my “first job” as an elderly adult.

When I got that job at Starbucks, my age allowed me to blend in with my coworkers with relative ease. I was young enough to envision a future career in youth services; today, I work full-time as a Senior Advisor and National Advocate with the Campaign for the Fair Sentencing of Youth. Through this work I am able to live my remorse for my role in the loss of another life everyday – something I often refer to as “my eternal apology”.

My journey is a testament to the human potential for positive change, and I am in no way an exception. I personally know many individuals who have gone through similar experiences and are now living positive and productive lives. But it is difficult to know who I would be now if I were still incarcerated with no hope of release until I was 50 or 60 years old.

For juvenile lifers, many of whom had horrific childhoods and responded negatively to those traumas, “a meaningful opportunity for release” should mean being considered for release at an age when one can still acclimate to society and have time to experience life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. It also means having access to reentry programs that offer support for people who have lived every day of their adulthood behind bars.

We now know from a developmental standpoint that children who commit crimes have the capacity to become decent, contributing adults. What we have yet to fully embrace is that it usually does not take them half a century to get there.

We must work in state legislatures and in our communities to ensure that “meaningful opportunities” are given sooner; and that when granted people are able to leave prison with the tools and ability to fulfill their potential in every facet of their adult lives.